Just Call Me Cassandra

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Kathryn Lance has been a freelance writer since the early seventies. She is the author or ghost of more than fifty books of fiction and nonfiction, for children and adults. She has recently become a docent at a desert nature park, and though she still writes has learned to prefer snakes to copy editors.

Pandora’s Genes, my first science fiction novel, was the result of cross-fertilization between a news story and an enigmatic dream. One morning in the late seventies I saw a short squib in the New York Times business section about a company that was working to genetically alter bacteria that naturally consume oil so that they might be used to clean up oil spills. I thought, “Great! But what if your car catches it?”A few months later I had a mysterious dream in which a good, moral man had embarked on a mission to do something he knew was wrong but was compelled to do. I was so intrigued that I sat down and started writing.

Not too far into the story I realized it was set in the world I had imagined resulting from the runaway altered bacteria. In my story, the oil-eating bacteria had mutated and spread after being set loose on a massive oil spill; they consumed not only all oil in the world, but all petroleum products, including plastics and the fail-safe seals on germ warfare experiments, releasing deadly plagues. The novel is about competition by several groups of people for control of this dangerous, nearly depopulated world. Zach, the good man from my dream, became one of the three main characters; the two other key characters, who appeared to me when I began writing, are The Principal, a well-meaning but flawed political and military leader, and Evvy, the young girl that both men love, who may hold the key to saving the world.

I wrote feverishly for several weeks, almost as if I were reading the story. The characters, who were not consciously based on anyone I knew, seemed more real to me than my friends and family. I really had no idea what was going to happen until it “happened” at the end of my typing fingers. That had never occurred before and has not since, but it was one of the most compelling experiences in my life.When I finished the rough draft, in about six weeks, it took me two years of revising to get it in shape to send to my agent, and then I had to revise it again for the publisher who eventually bought it. When my editor told me before accepting the final manuscript that I had to change the ending, I was paralyzed until I had yet another dream. In this one, I was giving birth to a child (something I have never done). The experience was not painful, but was rather extremely erotic, building in intensity until the child was born and I woke up knowing exactly how the story would end. I sat down and wrote it in one sitting.

Pandora’s Genes was published in 1986 and its sequel came out the following year. It was named “Best New Science Fiction” by Romantic Times and was chosen for the Locus (s-f) Recommended List for the year. In May of this year, e-reads, the top publisher for out-of-print genre books, realized that my book was newly relevant, especially since one of the remedies currently proposed involves the use of genetically modified bacteria. My book is currently featured on the e-reads website . I had intended the story in part as a cautionary tale, and still see it that way. I just hope none of the other horrors that I foresaw come to pass.The first chapter of Pandora’s Genes is available on my website, and it can be ordered from Amazon

Kathryn Lance

Q&A with Author KD Easley

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Susan: I’m very happy to have KD Easley join us today. She’s a fellow Missouri author and a super nice lady. She’s also giving away a signed ARC of MURDER AT TIMBER BRIDGE to one of today’s commenters! So comment away!

Hi, KD and welcome to the Stiletto Gang! First off, tell us about MURDER AT TIMBER BRIDGE (A Randi Black Mystery) and how you came to write it.

KD: I think Randi developed out of dreams of what I always wanted. I was in a pretty rough time in my life when I wrote MURDER AT TIMBER BRIDGE, and I think it was escape more than anything. Randi has twin boys and I always dreamed of having twins. Her kids are pretty well-behaved and I always dreamed of having well-behaved children. And, Randi has two brothers, one of them older. As an only child, I’d always dreamed of having an older brother. I mean, when you’re dreaming, why not pick the one thing that you’re absolutely never going to have, right? Anyway, writing Randi’s story gave me a chance to have some of the things I’d always wanted, without dealing with the crappy things going on in my life. I mean seriously, tripping over a dead body is worse than almost all of the crappy jobs I’d had up to that time, so it even helped me feel positive about my own life.

Susan: Is Randi anything like you? How is she the same/different?

KD: Randi and I share a sense of humor, we’re both divorced, and we both have two sons. She lives in a small town where everyone knows everything about everyone else, and we share that experience as well. I think we differ in that Randi is a bit more social than I am. She has more friends and a bigger family. She’s also probably not as shy, more apt to jump into trouble without thinking, and she has much longer hair. Truth to tell, she’s probably about forty pounds lighter than I am too, but we can just keep that among ourselves.

Susan: What inspired you to start writing mysteries?

KD: I’m a lifelong mystery reader, starting with Nancy Drew and Trixie Belden and moving up from there. I’m a storyteller from early childhood and had numerous imaginary friends. My Mom used to say that, when I went in to take my bath, it sounded like there were twenty people in the room with me. I can remember very clearly that some of my imaginary buddies were good guys and some were bad guys. So even though I don’t remember any specific stories from those days, I think I was probably honing my mystery chops even back then. The trigger that actually put my butt in the chair and my fingers on the keyboard was the death of my best friend. The story I wrote was more romance and autobiography than anything else, and if I’m lucky, no one will ever read it. The writing was awful and it had a sad ending (and as everyone knows, romance fans do not want sad endings); but it was very cathartic, and it gave me a chance to see how words worked on paper. I learned more from that failed manuscript than anything else I’ve ever done. Shortly after that I started writing TIMBER BRIDGE, bodies started dropping and I knew I’d found my home.

Susan: How do you balance your real-life and your publishing life? Any tips on juggling it all without going crazy?

KD: I don’t balance them at all. I’m a bit compulsive and whatever I’m doing at the moment is the most important thing in the world, whether it’s baking Christmas cookies, writing, or working in the yard. So balance is something I really struggle with. I think the going crazy part is a given. You have to be a little bit crazy to write. I seriously need to learn some time management and organizational skills. It would make my life so much easier. That may perhaps be another one of those unobtainable dreams, like the big brother thing I mentioned earlier.

Susan: What authors/books do you most love reading?

KD: I love to read. It’s an addiction for me. If I don’t have a book or my Kindle handy, I’ll read the back of cereal boxes. I get a physical ache when I go without reading for too long. To that end I will read almost anything, but my first love is mysteries and thrillers. I love Dick Francis. He has the ability to draw you into his story with an opening line and hold you there till the end. But I also read Dana Cameron, Carolyn Haines, Lee Child, Dana Stabenow, Jim Butcher, Robert Parker, this list could truly go on and on. I don’t really have a specific type of mystery. I love them all: cozies, police procedurals, amateur sleuth, romantic suspense, female protagonists, male protagonists, wizards, or vampires. I also find that I’m enjoying some of the women’s fiction that’s come out in the last few years. And I love to revisit old series. I find when I’m editing, I tend to read my old favorites and stay away from the tasty new books out there. I don’t know if it’s to keep my mind fresh for my own work, or to make it easier for me to put the book down and actually get some work done. I imagine it’s the latter.

Susan: What’s next for you?

KD: I’m working on book two in the Randi Black series, MURDER AT THE JOLLY ROGER. It’s due out in June of next year, and I’m winding up the edits on it now. My stand-alone mystery, WHERE THE DREAMS END, came out last year and lots of readers have asked to revisit those characters, so I’m working on a new story for Brocs Harley. I’m also putting together an anthology called ONCOLOGY CAN BE MURDER to raise money for the American Cancer Society. I hope to have enough stories gathered for that to see it published next year. I’ve got some short stories in the works as they seem to help me clear my head when the work in progress isn’t going well. I may try to send a few of those out and about and see what happens. And, between writing projects, I’m putting a book tour together for this summer and promoting, MURDER AT TIMBER BRIDGE and WHERE THE DREAMS END. Oh, and cooking and cleaning and all those other dreary chores that get in the way of the fun stuff. Wow, I’m tired just writing all that.

Susan: How can readers get your books?

KD: My books are available by request at any brick and mortar bookstore, or online at Amazon, BN.com, and most other Internet booksellers. Electronic copies are available from http://www.smashwords.com/ and Kindle, and signed copies can be purchased from the store page of http://www.kdwrites.com/. Thank you so much for inviting me to visit the Stiletto Gang! It was a blast!

KD Easley can be found procrastinating in Missouri with her two feline co-writers, Luna and Merlin. Signed copies of her books are available at http://www.kdwrites.com/ and KD can be found periodically at http://kdblog.kdwrites.com.

Rewards

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Lila Dare, author of the Southern Beauty Shop series from Berkley Prime Crime, joins us today. The first book in the series, Tressed to Kill, debuted May 4 and got a starred review from Publishers Weekly and 4 ½ stars from Romantic Times. That might seem like reward enough for a first time novelist, but Lila says we need to think about how we reward ourselves.

Reward (n.) 1. Something given in return for good or, sometimes, evil or for service or merit 2. Money offered, as for the capture of a criminal, the return of something lost 3. Compensation, profit, return

Many of us writers think the ultimate reward is becoming a New York Times best-selling author who outsells J.K. Rowling and James Patterson put together. Or, if we’re more literarily oriented, we aspire to a National Book Award and an Oscar in the same year (because, of course, our literary book was made into a movie directed by James Ivory and starring Emma Thompson and Daniel Day Lewis). Even the most optimistic of us, however, have to admit that those rewards are not likely getting bestowed on us five minutes (or even five years) after we start writing. So how do we reward ourselves in the interim?

The longer I’m in this writing/publishing business, the more convinced I am that rewarding ourselves for the accomplishment of milestones along the way is critical. Rewards give us a sense of pride in what we’ve done and motivate us. You can’t wait until you finish a manuscript, or land an agent, or get a three-book contract to reward yourself (although those amazing and fantabulous accomplishments deserve huge rewards). How about rewarding yourself for reaching your writing goal for the month (whether that’s 10,000 words, the re-write of your ending scene, or an in-depth interview with your protagonist)? Or, consider rewarding yourself for the accomplishment of a writing-related task you hate: sending out another ten queries, setting up a Facebook page/blog/Twitter account to promote your book, pitching your WIP to an agent or editor at a conference, conducting a difficult interview. We too often dismiss these sorts of accomplishments, shrug them off, and get onto the next task, when we really deserve a “Way to go!” for tackling them.

All of which begs the question of what makes an appropriate reward. Clearly, you’re not going to hand yourself a lovely certificate or plaque, as many traditional workplaces do. I struggle with this question because my go-to awards for myself tend to a) be ingestible (and fattening), b)cost money, or c) both of the above. (I am especially sensitive to the question because I have two tweenage daughters and I hate to set them up for a life-time of weight issues by celebrating their successes with food: National Junior Honor Society induction—let’s get a sundae!

Volleyball team MVP—let’s have some chocolate cake! Won the talent contest—Cinnabon here we come!) So, I offer a list of some of the non-edible, not-too-expensive rewards I bestow on myself:

Read a non-writing-related magazine (I like More and InStyle) without once feeling guilty;

Give yourself a manicure or pedicure with a fun new color (my current fave is a pale orange called Candy Corn);

Call a friend and chat for half an hour without once mentioning writing or publishing;

Go for an hour-long walk or hike (I realize this might be a penance and not a reward for some, but I like working out);

Go to the gym/health club and do nothing except sit in the hot tub,steam room, or sauna;

Play with your pet;

Spend an hour enjoying a non-writing-related hobby;

Volunteer;

Do something your kid wants to do and really throw yourself into it, whether it’s playing Littlest Pet Shop, doing soccer drills, or shopping at Claire’s (gag me);

Buy a new kind of tea/coffee or a new variety of wine/beer and give it a try, maybe something a tad pricier than your usual.

Obviously, rewards are very personal—what tickles my fancy might make you retch and I might rather get a root canal than “reward” myself with an activity or item you find wonderful. The point is to reward yourself in a meaningful way for the small milestones along the way, as well as the huge successes.

I’d love to hear how you reward yourselves (or how you reward your kids’ accomplishments) and will send a signed copy of Tressed to Kill to one commenter. Thanks very much to the Stiletto Gang for having me on the blog today!

Lila Dare
http://www.liladare.com/

My Own Private Pitch Count

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Summer is upon us and with it comes America’s favorite pastime: baseball. As faithful Stiletto Gang readers know, I’m a masochist and root for the New York Mets, a team who manages to lose with alarming regularity despite boasting some of the best fielders and hitters in the game. Anyone with a nodding acquaintance of Major League Baseball knows that the Mets are underachievers, something that really hits close to home when you have the-team-who-shall-not-be-named across town in the Bronx. I continue to hope, though, that we get our act together and see some progress.

Our pitching has been sketchy at best. We have a formidable bullpen—Oliver Perez aside—members of which are called in to save the day once the pitcher on record, he who started the game, begins to wear down. Or reaches baseball’s new determinant of a pitcher’s lifespan on the mound: the pitch count.

It has gotten so ubiquitous in baseball that some broadcasts put a pitch count clock at the bottom of the screen so that when a pitcher hits one hundred pitches, the talking heads can start talking about how many pitches the guy has thrown and when the manager should take him out. As the pitch count rises, sometimes upwards of a hundred and twenty pitches, the guys on the telecast start talking about the pitcher like he is doing the impossible—pitching after he has reached his pitch count. It almost becomes like “They Shoot Horses, Don’t They” meets “The Natural,” where it sounds like he is either going to be taken out and put out of his misery or nominated to the Hall of Fame on that particular day. They say, their voices filled with wonder, “He has exceeded his pitch count, yet he continues to pitch.”

Yes, amazing.

I think we should institute the pitch count on the things we do on a daily basis, or even those that we don’t. So, for instance, when a woman has entered her thirty-sixth hour of labor, she should be able to turn to her doctor and say, “I’ve reached my pitch count. Get this sucker out!”

Actually, that’s a paraphrase of what just about every birthing mother says in the delivery room, but with far more colorful language incorporated.

Wouldn’t you love to have a pitch count for everyday life? When my husband grades his thousandth test for the year, I think he should be able to invoke the pitch count and put his red pen aside. He should be able to coast for the rest of the year, don’t you think? Or sit in a dugout and chew gum while watching a professional baseball game?

I’m going to invoke the pitch count when someone asks me, “What’s for dinner?” I’ve cooked almost every single night for the past sixteen years and tonight, we’re going out. I’ve reached my pitch count.

I’m definitely going to invoke the pitch count when it comes to simple household tasks that I loathe, particularly the emptying of the dishwasher. (Northern Half of Evelyn David? I’m with you, girl.) I have unloaded my last load of clean dishes. Why? I’ve reached my pitch count.

I will never invoke the pitch count on things that matter, like cleaning the toilets. No pitch count there.

And I will never invoke the pitch count when it comes to hugging my kids, although they may wish that I did. Particularly when I do it outside of their school or after one of their games in full view of their homies or peeps. I’m sure they wish I would also invoke the pitch count when it comes to using terms like “homies” or “peeps” or my all-time favorite, “shawty.”

Nor will I invoke the pitch count when it comes to bathing the dog. (I’m the only one she lets near her with a bottle of shampoo and a hose.) Or saying “I love you” to people that matter.

But I will invoke the pitch count when it comes to hunting down the last elusive box of chocolate-chip waffles—the only ones my son will eat—a task I repeat at least four times a week. Sorry, kid, I’ve reached my pitch count.

Weigh in, Stiletto faithful. On what have you reached your pitch count?

Maggie Barbieri

Sitting Among the Super Stars

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In the photo: me, Donna Andrews, Marcia Talley and Deborah Crombie.

First, let me say, this past weekend at Mayhem in the Midlands was extraordinary.

The con is always held in Omaha, and we’ve been to this particular mystery event nine times. We’ve gone so often we’ve made friends with people who live in Omaha and others who attend this conference on a regular basis.

This year, one of my panels was with the guest of honor, Deborah Crombie, and Marcia Talley, the toast master, moderated by Donna Andrews.

I knew most of the people who attended that panel hadn’t come because of my presence on that that panel. Deborah and Marcia are good friends and it definitely shows when they are bantering back and forth. My biggest contribution was making people laugh. One thing I know how to do is offer one-liners.

An interesting, and most rewarding event for me and I think the audience to was a conversation with authors. Radine Nehring, Nancy Pickard and I sat in a circle with audience surrounding us. Radine had come up with many interesting subjects for us to discuss and it worked well. Several people told me it was like eavesdropping on our conversation. I hadn’t read Nancy Pickard’s work, so before the conference I purchased The Smell of Rain and Lightening (or maybe it’s the other way around) and I absolutely loved it.

In fact, for every panel I was on or moderated, if I hadn’t ever read anything by the author before, I got the book and read it. Believe me, that really helps–especially when you’re on a panel with brand new and nervous authors.

This year besides those two panels, I moderated one and I was on another about Religion in Mysteries. 17 of my books sold, which is the best I’ve ever done at this conference. Being on panel and being a good panelists helps sell books. Being a good panelist means that you have to be engaging without hogging the panel. (Yes, some authors do hog panels.)

Being on panels and going to them is only one part of attending a mystery con. The people who come and the great conversations you have are another plus. And I can’t give a report about Mayhem without saying that the eating at Mayhem is pretty darn good too. There is a reception the first night, and this year they had a mac and cheese bar. You put the mac and cheese in a champagne glass and chose what toppings you wanted from a vast array. Of course they had the usual fruit, cheese, cracker, meatballs etc. for the less daring.

The Sisters in Crime buffet this year consisted of tacos and all the trimmings–delicious.

The hotel for Mayhem is right at the end of The Old Marketplace which is full of wonderful restaurants. Of course we had one lunch at Ahmad’s Persian Restaurant, our most favorite. We also ate at the Indian Oven, M’s, and a new place called Stokes. Of course we always had a great group of people with us.

When we first arrived, one of our friends in Omaha took us to another restaurant on the other side of town, plus gave us a tour of some of the new things that have been built since the last time we were there. On our last night we also went out with this same gal to another great place, The Upstream Brewery and hubby and I both had their root beer, which is delicious.

Anyway, I’m back, tired and overwhelmed with work.

Marilyn

A Change of Pace

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I’m not whining. Really, I’m not.

But I hate unloading the dishwasher. I don’t mind loading it. Heck, I don’t even mind washing dishes by hand. But I can’t stand opening the dishwasher door, with the unexpected steam facial, and putting away all the clean plates and silverware.

I know in the scope of tough things in life, this doesn’t even qualify to make the list. I should be grateful (I am) to have a dishwasher. I should be grateful (I am) that I have food to make those dishes dirty in the first place.

But after a million years of marriage (all wonderful, I assure you), and raising four kids (to steal from Garrison Keillor, all good looking and above average) – I am tired of household chores. Sure whoever is at home helps, but I’m still the captain of this cruise ship. Absolutely, my husband does more than his fair share (he’d probably argue that it’s waaaay more than his fair share), but let’s just agree to disagree.

But unless we’re prepared to eat takeout food on paper plates with plastic forks (and risk the wrath of “save the earth fans” the world over) – I’m looking for some invention (or person) to do the following tasks:

1. Unload the dishwasher and put away the contents in a timely fashion (within an hour of the completion of its cycle). This is to avoid the “who can wait longest to see if somebody else will do the job.”

2. Carry upstairs from the basement and distribute to the appropriate drawers, all the clean laundry I’ve done. I point out that it doesn’t count if you merely plop the clean clothes on the bed, to be pushed to the floor before crawling into the sheets, which will necessitate either refolding or washing the clothes again because the dog with the muddy feet has walked on them.

3. Put away the groceries. I don’t mind shopping for food, sometimes at more than one store to get the best bargain, I’ll even lug the bags into the house. But I hate to put the foodstuffs away. Yes, there is a pattern here. I sometimes fantasize that if I only had a walk-in pantry, then putting away dishes and groceries would be a snap. But since I don’t have a pantry, walk-in or otherwise, putting these things away involves much squeezing and rearranging, always doubling the time of the original task.

4. Iron tablecloths and t-shirts. Yes, I know about wrinkle-free tablecloths, but mine are never unwrinkled and if I’m going to the trouble of putting a cloth on the dining room table, it’s an occasion and should look nice. When I iron, it does not….look nice. Same for summer t-shirts which are grabbed right out from the dryer and still look like they have shrunk two sizes, with permanent creases. (Of course, as a writer, I never see anyone so who cares).

5. Mark the sheets so that it’s clear which way they fit. On a twin, this is never a problem, but on our Queen-sized bed, I inevitably put the bottom fitted sheet on the wrong way and have to start over again. I’d also add that I’d like sheets that didn’t pill or shrink – and as long as I’m asking, I’d like someone else to put them on the bed in the first place. Actually, to take a step back, I’d also like someone else to fold all fitted bottom sheets, a task I’ve reduced to rolling them up in balls because I can’t get them to fold flat.

What chores would you like to dump, er, exchange with a loved one?

Marian

Because I Feel Like It

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Rachel Brady

Last week I took a shine to doing things just because I felt like it. It started with painting my toenails glittery orange. Then there was an impromptu trip to the beach with my little boy. Soon I reversed course and started skipping certain things I didn’t feel like doing. I walked past the dishes in the sink and let the unfolded laundry wait for later. I deleted a few events from my calendar. Decided I’d rather do something else instead.

Gotta say, I liked where this was headed.

Some of you may wonder what the big deal is here. Aren’t we all free-thinking folks with the ability to choose a course for ourselves? Sure. But something about my internal wiring has left me forever reluctant to hop on board the train to Changed My Mind. Seems like any time an activity has ever hit my To Do list, it has been cemented there.

Normally, I wouldn’t have made that beach trip until all the other undesirable chores were finished first. Ditto for settling in at night to read a book or work on my manuscript. Those things feel too leisurely, as if surely some punishment must be completed first. All this stems from my responsibility gene, I’ve decided. The same one that has me attending social functions out of a sense of duty and obligation, even if I’d rather be somewhere else. I’m starting to change my mind about all kinds of things lately, and in most cases I don’t even feel apologetic about it anymore.

It began with a comment from my friend Carrie last February. After asking me to go running with her on the upcoming Saturday, she told me it was okay to just say, “Maybe. If I feel like it.” No yes or no required.

Strangely, this response would never have crossed my mind had she not put it out there. I’d have either said “yes,” and honored that commitment, or I’d have said “no,” and then felt obligated to offer up a really good explanation of why not. And I never would have been so rude as to remain non-committal like she was suggesting. But having her permission, I took her up on it. And I discovered that I liked leaving my calendar open to make last-minute decisions depending on whether or not I felt like doing something.

It started spilling over.

Carrie was the only person in my cast of friends to offer this carte blanche approach to planning, but I started using it with everyone else around me anyway. I said no to requests for volunteer work (don’t judge me!), turned down invitations to do local races with friends, and even (yes… Mom Guilt here) set boundaries with my family.

I learned a few things. My young son can dress himself and brush his own teeth. My daughters can put away laundry and pour their brother’s cereal in the morning. And somebody else around here has been feeding all the pets because I stopped doing it a long time ago and, as yet, none are dead.

What do I feel like doing instead? Writing.

For years, I waited until everyone in my family was asleep before I started to write. I made all their lunches, loaded the dishwasher, picked up toys, and did laundry–all after bedtime–and then turned on my laptop at nine or ten o’clock and wrote if I had anything left to give. I don’t feel like doing it that way anymore.

I want to write a book this year. A whole book, not a few disjointed chapters spread out wide over the course of months and years. So, twice a week I’ve been leaving and going to my local library for about three hours at a time to write. Alone.

Do I feel guilty? You bet.

Is it stopping me? Nope.

Somewhere in here, there must be a balance. I’m still looking for it, just like everyone else. The day may not be far off that I’ll decide my new M.O. is selfish and then revert to my old ways. I’m open to that possibility. But this year I’m serving others less and writing more.

Admittedly, I’m having a little rebellious streak right now. Still, I hope the Stiletto Faithful will also consider what you’d most like to do in life. Once in a while, I hope you’ll pursue those things too, because you feel like it. No apologies required.

Guilty Pleasures

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I’m really not a big TV watcher. But when I’m down, or just need to relax, or when I’m a little stuck on my WIP, I do turn to what I call my comfort shows. There are a few of them.

Supernatural is one of my top favorites.

Once in a while I watch Southland.

Love Love Love Project Runway.

But these are all done, and now so is American Idol.

Last night Lee DeWyze won and all is good in Idol world.

I’ve written about Friday Night Lights–my other TV love.

(and it’s on NBC again so I can see the whole season!) Yes!!

But I really love another show.


g l e e

Raise your hand if you’re a Glee fan. Go ahead, all the way up.


Things I love about Glee:

  • The singing–of course!
  • The head-on approach it takes with toughissues like not blending in or being true to who you are.
  • The homage to pop culture.
  • A whole show paying tribute to Madonna.
  • Special Guest star Olivia Newton John.
  • Sue and the Cheerios.
  • Gaga day.
  • The melodrama. It’s over the top and God how I love it!
  • Kristen Chenowith.
  • Kurt and Finn trying to be almost brothers.
  • The angst.
  • The emotion.
  • The truth underneath the theatricality.
  • The cheerio, Brittany, who said, “Did you know Dolphins are just gay sharks?”

There’s so much to love about Glee. It’s a guilty pleasure… and one I’m not afraid to admit.

So here’s my question:

What’s your guilty pleasure?

~Misa


Free Children?

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Lenore Skenazy is a writer who I have followed throughout the years, having read her column faithfully in the New York Daily News when it ran there. She writes about life in the city as a parent and working mom, and I have always found something to relate to in her essays. She is a good writer with a great sense of humor with whom I always manage to find common ground when it comes to parenting, marriage, or living in the Metropolitan area.

Her latest book, Free Range Kids: How to Raise Safe, Self-Reliant Children (Without Going Nuts with Worry), sounds like a book that I would like to read. Rather, it sounds like a book I SHOULD read because as anyone who reads this blog knows, I’m a worrier of the first order. If worrying were an art, well, I’d be Michelangelo. In the book, Skenazy contends that we should stop worrying about our kids, stop holding them “captive,” and start letting them live. Let them discover the world. In her case, that means allowing her nine-year-old to take the subway by himself. In my case, that means allowing my eleven-year-old to walk three houses up the street to play with a friend. Baby steps, people, baby steps. I visited her Amazon page to read more about the book and was impressed with her sixty-six five-star reviews and complete lack of one-star reviews. She almost had me.

Until “Take Your Children to the Park…and Leave Them There” day.

While publicizing the book, Skenazy put forth the premise that kids should be allowed to go to the park and play, an argument that I actually agree with. She contends that children spend too much time indoors and argues that nobody is really allowed to go outside and play anymore. All reasonable. All true. Today’s parents, myself included, spend too much time thinking about what our kids should be doing, managing their time to the very last second, without allowing them to do anything but bend to our social will. These days, when child #2 asks me if he can play in the woods behind our house, my answer is, “Not without a friend! Stay together! And make sure you check yourself for ticks when you get back in! Oh, and don’t forget to wear sunscreen! How many brussel sprouts do you want with your grilled chicken?” as opposed to, “Sure! Have a good time! Don’t come back until I call you for dinner! We’re having all the foods you love!”

What I don’t agree with is the age that Skenazy thinks is the best time to try out the theory that kids should go and play and meet other children, all without the watchful eyes of their parents: seven or eight. Seven or eight? Those are ages that I just can’t get behind.

Believe me, I know children at the tender age of seven or eight who appear very mature, more mature than I sometimes am. Downright adult-like. But in reality, they aren’t. They are little kids who might have enviable communication skills or a higher level of maturity than say, some forty-year-olds but they are still children who live in a world that is populated by many wonderful and kind people but some not-so-great people. Some of these not-so-great people are even other children. I have had the pleasure of sitting beside a playground the last several weeks at child #2‘s Little League games and I eavesdrop on the shenanigans that go on while children are playing, and sometimes, these shenanigans are not terribly positive. Back in the day, we would have called them “character-building,” but in today’s “everyone’s a winner!” world, they are just downright mean.

Yes, I know: it’s all part of growing up. But the idea of dropping a seven-year-old at the park, particularly one in New York City where Skenazy lives, doesn’t seem safe. I think I could get behind a twelve-year-old being allowed to roam free, but when I (hopefully) get there, we’ll need a lot of xanax to keep me mellow as the newly-anointed “independent” child goes off to explore the world.

I think Skenazy ultimately has the right idea but to me, but we differ on the execution and the details. She’s right that we over-manage everything about children’s lives and that we need to back off. We put too much pressure on them to achieve in school and give them anxieties about life and their future that they just don’t deserve, in my opinion. But when it comes to freedom, we need to stress to them—and by “them,” I mean children over seven—that that freedom comes with responsibility. That responsibility includes being safe, being kind to others, and being respectful of everyone you encounter. And knowing when to involve an adult. I think there’s a happy medium between Skenazy’s world where children I consider too young can rule the world and my world, where my kids who have their learner’s permits still have to text their mom when they arrive at the library, just a ten-minute walk away.

What do you think, Stiletto readers?

Maggie Barbieri

Next Up, Something Different

/in /by

My next book is going to be a departure from my usual mystery. It’s a story I wrote long ago that was inspired by a family tragedy.

My son-in-law, who inspired me to write about law enforcement, was killed in the line of duty. Some things happened right after he was killed that made us all realize that his spirit might still be around.

As time went on, I decided to write a story based on some of what happened. Of course the characters are different, and the outcome as well. In some ways, I think the writing was a way of helping me through the loss of a young man I loved like a son.

(I have to mention that this was a horribly difficult time for my daughter who lost her husband of 15 years and had three young boys to raise on her own. This is not her story, though I borrowed a lot from what happened after she lost her husband. The fictional story grew out of her experience of course–but it is fictional.)

I wrote that book long ago and it appeared only as an e-book. After several years, I broke my relationship with that particular publisher. After I signed on with Oak Tree Press for my Rocky Bluff P.D. series, the publisher asked if I had any older books I’d like to put on Kindle. One of the books I gave her was Lingering Spirit. She fell in love with the story.

This year she asked if she could turn it into a trade paperback. Of course I said yes. So in June, I’ll have a romance with a touch of the supernatural coming out.

Honestly, I’m surprised by the turn of events. It’ll be quite different to be promoting a romance.

Marilyn
http://fictionforyou.com